anything could happen
by Running For Anothers Dream
Summary: cover your eyes so you don't know the secret Sweaters can only hide so much and even the strongest can fall. After a trip back home, Mabel finds herself scrambling - for something familiar? For something new? Anything, she thinks, so long as it's stead, so long as they don't see e truth.
1. and the smoke rises higher

A/N: Alright! These are mostly pretty short. They were written a while ago and have just been sitting on my computer. Eventually, I would like to do something more for them. Eh, only other important thing is that the kids are all a bit older now. Maybe, like, fifteen or so? And also Mabel has made friends with Gideon.

Ta Ta!

* * *

There's smoke furling against the closed windows. Dipper isn't sure why it catches his attention but it does. His heart skips a beat and he freezes for a moment, tries to convince himself that it isn't his house or maybe that his sister isn't home.

But it is his house and of course Mabel's home. She isn't allowed to go out anywhere right now. Parents rule, even when they aren't around.

"Mabel?" breaths Dipper. Heat causes an upstairs window to burst and Dipper's mind goes with it, lost in the sudden sound of crackling flames.

His back pack hits the cement.

Maybe he calls her name again. Maybe he doesn't.

Someone calls his name but he's already moving, nearly slamming himself against the front door in his haste to get inside. The change is instant. The air is so hot that it's thick and smoke fills his lungs with every breath, curling against his throat in heavy, burning waves.

"Mabel?" shouts Dipper, but the only answer is the sound of his own coughing. There's a lot of smoke on the bottom floor but not much fire. Which is good and bad all at once, because Mabel spends a lot of time in her bedroom these last few weeks.


	2. white walls all around

A/N: Poor Mabel just wants Gideon to write her back.

I'll get a One Hundred Journal Entries story up later, with all of the short things that _don't_ belong to the burn!au. Can you guys tell that this was my jam for a while?

* * *

Everything hurts. The walls are white, the air smells of disinfectant, and everything hurts. Mabel is torn between drawing the sheets up higher around herself and pushing them off completely, can't decide which would be better.

The machines drone on around her. It's a steady humming and beeping. Constant. Frustrating.

Mabel glares at them because there's not much else for her to be doing. Hates them. Hates being here. Decides that she hates hospitals all together. The sounds and smells and looks.

She's only been awake for a few days. Everything is still fresh and raw. The clock ticks slowly and Dipper comes by after school but no one else, never anyone else, and her friends letters are still at home in the box on the mantel.

Letters. Ink and paper. Mabel is technically not supposed to be writing to anyone, part of her expulsion, of teaching her a lesson, but it's not like the person she really wants to talk too is writing back.


	3. long sweater sleeves

A/N: Now we're getting to the good parts!

* * *

Soft sweaters hide the burns on her arms and jeans quickly replace mini skirts. Mabel spends a full day bedazzling every pair that she can get her hands on, trying to add some sort of spark to the otherwise dull fabric. No one mentions the gloves because she's always been weird about being cold; and they come in every color of the rainbow, in sparkles and shimmers and tye dyed too. It's just that hair can only hide so much and she can't stand wearing scarves.

The burn winds up from beneath the collar of her sweater and wraps around to the back of her neck. It's red and raw, open still because she just can't quit clawing at it. There are blisters forming around its edges more that have been scraped open already, the skin around it managing to be bruised and too pale all at once.

Stan sees it the moment that he opens the door and Mabel has to bite down on the urge to brush her hair over her shoulder, hiding it away from the world. She grins at him instead, sets her suitcase down and holds her arms out to the side for a hug.

"Hi, Grunkle Stan! I missed you," says Mabel, happily. She's drawn close into a hug and Mabel can feel his large hands hovering in this spot and that, like he's not sure where to put them, as if he doesn't know where that burn ends and the next begins.

Stan's eyes latch onto Dipper and stay there, demanding an answer without words but Dipper's voice has caught in his throat, just as it always does. It's like smoke is curling tight within his lungs again, twisting and pressing and stealing his voice.

Dipper ends up saying nothing and just hovering off to the side, fingers curling in the fabric of his shorts.

"I missed you," repeats Mabel, softer this time. She presses her face against her grandfather's chest and breaths in the scent of home and happiness. Unearthly warmth ghosts across her skin, as if the sun is shining down just on her.

"I missed you too, sweetheart. You kids - just leave your bags out here," Stan eventually says, relinquishing his grip on Mabel and ushering both teenagers into the house. He doesn't ask what happened because he never does. Just


	4. answering the telephone is a mistake

A/N: IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I LAST READ OVER MY OWN WORK. I REALLY LIKE THIS SETTING.

* * *

"What? And you didn't think I needed to know about this back when it actually happened? Oh no, I understand. The strange old uncle that nobody likes - he doesn't have to know! No, no, I definitaly understand," rages Stan, voice loud enough that it drifts upstairs and through the walls. "Why on Earth would I possibly need to know that my neice and nephew were in a fire?"

There's a moment of silence. Dipper glances at his twin, opens up the notebook.

"Oh no, Carol, no need to apologize! I understand perfectly well that I was not on a need to know basis! I'm sure that Steven was insistent on being quiet about it. After all, he wouldn't want people to think that he's not home to take care of and look after his own children!"

Something glass shatters. Wincing at the sound, Mabel sits down beside her twin.

"How ridiculous," continues Stan, and he sounds more furious by the minute. "I mean, it's not like he spends all of his time at the office, right? No, of course not! So he must have been home with the kids! I bet he's just burnt to cinders, isn't he?"

Another lapse of silence. Dipper wonders if anyone is regretting not telling Stan yet. He thinks they must be.

"Well, it's been great talking to you! Please, go back to whatever important, important thing you were doing! I'm sure whatever it is, it's much more pressing than informing me that they need medication while they're in my care!"

Another crash. A faint ring. It sounds like the telephone's hit the ground. Mabel thinks, _this is going to be a long visit._


	5. things might not be alright

A/N: this one won't make sense to anyone but me, until I get my stuff together and post the other story. Essentially, Mabel stole this bathrobe from Grunkle Stan way back, bedazzled it, and promptly started wearing it around every morning. Uh, she stops wearing it after she gets burnt.

sorry this makes sense to no one but me

* * *

Stan finds it in the middle of the night. He's tired and sore, with the blood of a beast that he's never seen before on his hands. It's dark and gray and smells like rotten meat.

"Ugh. Disgusting," mutters Stan, yanking open his bottom drawer. It's filled more with paper than clothing and he makes a note to acquire another shirt soon.

The stains are getting harder to pass off as coffee.

Eventually, his hand hits something soft. He pulls it out, hoping to find a tank top that looks clean. And it's clean, sure, and it's his, yes, but Stan hasn't seen this in his drawers for the longest of times.

There are bright stones embedded in the sleeves and around the collar. Dark fabric and a wear spot on the left arm, where slender fingers have rubbed the fabric thin. Yellow, pink, green and Stan realizes that he hasn't seen his great niece wear the bathrobe at all this visit.


End file.
